Fire and Ice
by Maggie Moore
Summary: Royai one shot. Barry the Chopper is still at large, and Roy Mustang feels concerned for his Lieutenant's safety. Unmoved by his warnings and sure of her ability to defend herself, she insists on walking home alone.


_A/N:_ Just one thing in here that I know to be inconsistent: this is anime-based at around the time of Barry the Chopper's case, but Hawkeye already has Black Hayate. This is wrong, I know, but just go with it. Thanks!

Anyhow, it'd been in incredibly long time since I've written anything non-academic like this. I'm a little rusty and there were parts of this that felt incredibly awkward to me as I was writing. Hopefully I'll get back into the groove of this as I write more fics.

_Disclaimer:_ I own nothing: I'm only borrowing. I'll give them back, I promise.

"How do you get home, Lieutenant?" Colonel Roy Mustang asked as he closed the last of the case files, the images of the chopper's latest handiwork still burned into his brain despite now being concealed by the folder.

Across the office, Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye was filing paperwork into the cabinet, which he himself had never once touched. "Walking usually," she replied.

The Colonel's brow crossed and he looked outside at the gathering clouds. There were one or two beads of water already on the window, and a third one hit with a slight 'plop'.

"Even in the rain?" he asked as he turned his gaze back inside the office.

"Not all of us dislike the rain as much as you do, Colonel," the Lieutenant replied with a smirk.

A feeling of dread started to rise in Mustang's chest as his mind returned to unwanted images from the case file under his fingertips. "Still, let me walk you home."

"That's really not necessary, sir," Hawkeye replied shortly as she collected her purse and belongings from where she'd placed them in the corner of the office.

My, was her stubbornness irritating. "Please, Lieutenant?" he persisted.

Hawkeye looked over at the Colonel suspiciously. "Why do you even want to?"

"We just spent the past 5 hours looking at pictures of the bodies of mutilated women, all of which were killed in this immediate area, and you have to ask that question?"

"I assure you, sir, I can take care of myself," she said and she walked out of the office as quickly as she could, before the Colonel had the ridiculous idea to order her to walk home with him, or something of the sort. '_Arrogant bastard',_ she thought to herself. '_He _would_ do something like that.'_

She walked through the empty building, everyone else having left long before she'd managed to get the Colonel through his last stacks of paperwork for the day. Her thoughts wandered as she called to mind the increasing instances of the Colonel's bothersome and obnoxious paranoia about her own daily routine, especially while studying cases involving female victims. It was very unprofessional, not to mention irritating.

The doors of Central clanged behind her as she walked down the stairs to the main street. A gun bounced against her side and she felt a surge of inner pride. How dare he call into question her safety? After all, she did a good enough job protecting his dumb ass, didn't she? The thought that she couldn't take care of herself was simply absurd. She barely lived a few blocks away, anyway. She probably wouldn't have the chance to run into trouble, let alone need saving from it.

Her thoughts were interrupted as a rumble in the sky was followed immediately by a downpour of rain. She cursed to herself and fumbled around in her purse for her umbrella. Finding it, she held it up and let it open, feeling only slightly protected from the wind-tossed rain. _Great,_ she thought, _this is just fucking fantastic_.

There was a sudden crash of metal behind her, pulling her once again from her thoughts, and she whipped her head around to find the cause. A trashcan a few meters back was rocking dangerously, but nothing was around to give an explanation. Slightly on edge now, she turned back to face the road in front of her. _Hold on now, Riza,_ she counseled herself. _You're letting the Colonel get to you. It was probably just a cat._ She quickened the pace of her walk. It was raining, after all. There was no reason to stand idly in the streets, getting wet.

A few minutes had passed and she'd yet to relax. Above the sound of rain on concrete, she could've sworn she heard the controlled breathing and careful footsteps of a follower. She had now made three obscure turns into the immediate neighborhoods, and the hair-raising feeling of being watched hadn't passed at all. She was starting to weigh her options. Breaking out in a run was a possibility, but a very poor choice. She had no idea what kind of speed or stamina her stalker had, and she wasn't about to find out the hard way. The next likely option was to turn around and draw on her unwanted shadow. The fact that he hadn't jumped on her yet meant that he probably thought she was unaware of his presence, which meant that turning to face him down would come as a total surprise—

"Bless my heart, dear, what are you doing out in this weather?"

Hawkeye nearly yelped at the sudden voice on her right. She turned to see a stopped refrigerated truck on the side of the road with a beaming brown-haired woman leaning out the window. She silently cursed herself at being so focused on her back that she neglected to notice anything else; what was she thinking? She could've fallen victim to an ambush. If the Colonel were there to see it, she'd never hear the end of it.

The Lieutenant made an effort to smile at the woman. "Oh, just walking home. I'm close by."

"That's ridiculous," the woman replied warmly, "come on inside and get warm. I can take you home. You'll catch your death walking around in the streets on a night like this."

Hawkeye was about to reply when she heard the definite snap of a twig behind her. Not pausing to think, she dropped her umbrella, reached into her coat, turned around, and pointed the two guns in her hands towards the offending sound. The woman in the truck let out a surprised sound and drove off. _All the better,_ Riza thought. _No reason to risk civilian lives in this._

"Alright!" she bellowed into to the darkness. "I know you're back there and I know you've been following me. Now come out with your hands up and we'll take a nice and peaceful walk down to Central together."

She was met with silence.

Hawkeye let out an irritated groan. "I'm not in the mood to play games," she warned. "On the count of three, I shoot. One…" she cocked both guns with a click, "Two…" her fingers rested eagerly on the trigger, but before she could say the last number she saw movement in the shadows. "Hands up!" she barked, her entire body on high alert.

A form began to emerge from behind the cover of a building and walk slowly towards her. There was something uncomfortably… familiar about its build and gait. The form walked into the light of the nearby house and Hawkeye's heart dropped to her stomach, both relieved and infuriated.

A man in a blue overcoat walked out, his white gloves raised above his black haired and lowered head. It was none other than the very wet and guilty looking Colonel Roy Mustang that stood in front of her.

"Colonel?" the Lieutenant asked incredulously.

His head rose sheepishly and he looked at her with an expression begging forgiveness. "Guilty."

The Lieutenant stood frozen only long enough to give the Colonel an admonishing glare before she took off running in the opposite direction, her umbrella lying forgotten on the road.

"Shit!" Mustang cursed and he took off after her. "Lieutenant!" he yelled as he ran. He was just managing to turn corners soon enough to see her form disappearing behind the next turn. "Hawkeye, wait! Let me explain!"

But she didn't change her pace. A few minutes later he saw her turn into an apartment complex and followed, only to find himself standing in an open courtyard surrounded by doors and no idea into which the Lieutenant had disappeared. He heard a slam and turned towards the noise to see a door down the sidewalk with the decoration on it still swinging. Cautiously, he walked up to it and pressed his ear against it. After hearing the muffled barking of a dog and the sounds of metal being slammed on a wood, he knew he was at the right door. He took a step away and started banging on it.

"Lieutenant!" he bellowed. "Open this door!"

There was no answer.

Mustang felt his annoyance rise and he started banging again. "Open up now!" He heard movement from the other side of the door and waited. The sounds then turned into the clatter of pots and pans, made with the obvious attempt to show that the other party was ignoring him. Now he was getting angry. "I know you can hear me!" he yelled.

"Go away!" a voice on the other side yelled in response.

"Lieutenant, open this door now or so help me I'll—"

"You'll what? Burn it down?" the voice was obviously mocking him, and he was just angry enough to take the bait.

"Yes! I'll burn it down!" Mustang shouted as he put his arm out and took a step back. "I'll do it, too! I'm ready…"

"Go ahead," was the indifferent response.

"Fine!" The Colonel yelled back. "1… 2…" he paused to see if the voice inside was going to protest. When it didn't, he yelled out and angry "3!" and snapped his fingers, ready for the great burst of fire as it engulfed the door in a blaze of divine justice. Oh, sweet, flames! How quickly they consume—

Wait. Where was the fire?

Mustang blinked at the solid and very much not-on-fire door in front of him. It was then that he became aware of his surroundings and once again began to notice the soft and wet consistent thuds of raindrops on the top of his head. Wow, was he an idiot.

"Still raining, huh?" the Lieutenant's voice sounded just beyond the door, her amusement barely masked.

The Colonel glared at the door as if it were the one mocking him and huffed in response, "Lieutenant, open this door now! And that's an order!"

"We aren't at the office, Colonel," the voice from the other side of the door shouted back. "You can't order me around in my own apartment!"

Alright, so she had a point. He felt a little bad for trying to play the superiority card, but dammit, he wasn't going to leave before he had a chance to explain himself. Now he was wet, angry, annoyed, and felt like a complete idiot. Perhaps another strategy would work. Mustang leaned against the door and rapped his knuckles against it quietly. "Please, Hawkeye?" he asked in the most pleading voice he'd allow himself to have. "Haven't I made enough of a fool of myself? Just let me in so I can explain."

"Making a fool of yourself was your own decision; I had nothing to do with it, and I have no obligation to reward or pity you for its consequences." Hawkeye responded curtly. From the clarity of her voice, she was just on the other side of the door.

"Fine!" Mustang yelled back. "But I'm not leaving until you let me in!" He heard an annoyed sigh and the sound of receding footsteps on the other side of the door. "You can't stay inside forever," he grumbled to himself as dropped down to sit on her welcome mat.

Half an hour later, the Flame Alchemist was out of fire. His anger had greatly subdued and he was now sitting in a puddle of his own self-pity. At least the rain had lightened up slightly. Why on earth was he still sitting there? He didn't really think that this particular issue was that big of a deal, but he still couldn't get himself to stand up and leave. Part of it was most definitely because he was stubborn, but there was more to it than that. It was strange, but for some reason he felt like he needed to _prove_ something to Hawkeye. Resilience, commitment, something about priorities in his life… he didn't really know what it was all about. It was strange, he rarely cared what anyone else around the office said or thought about him, but for some reason the idea of Hawkeye thinking he was a bastard made me want to shove the barrel of one of her guns down his throat.

He heard a rattle above him and he jumped on his feet as the doorknob began turning. The Lieutenant stood in the doorway and looked at him. A moment of silence passed before she shook her head and sighed. "Do you ever quit?" she asked.

Mustang simply blinked back at her, not wanting to say anything else until he was allowed inside.

Hawkeye rolled her eyes and walked away, leaving the door open. "Well you'd better come in before you catch pneumonia and spread it all around the office."

He finally stepped across the threshold and closed the door behind him. He looked around the entryway and noticed how eerily clean it was. He then looked around for where Hawkeye had retreated.

She was standing at her table in the dining and kitchen area a few yards in front of him, wearing a black shirt and assorting her guns. She didn't look up at him as she spoke. "So, you followed me."

"Yes," he answered, eyes wandering nervously from the table of guns to her to random points around the space between them.

"Take that coat off before you drip water all over my apartment, please."

"Oh, right, sorry." He fumbled with his coat and pulled it off, then walked to the coat rack to hang it, leaving him in an embarrassingly soaked white button down shirt. He pulled at it a few times to try and keep it from clinging to him, but to no avail.

"So," Hawkeye's voice cut through his moment of self-consciousness. "I can't even protect myself? Is that what you think of me?"

Fuck. "What? No! I was just..."

"What exactly were you even planning on doing, Colonel? It's pouring down rain; are you even armed?! If I did run into the chopper tonight, and you'd have run forward in a huff of masculine heroism, all you would have managed to do is make my job even harder."

He hadn't thought of that. "Please, don't take it like that," he begged as he felt the familiar and sinking feeling of being pulled into an argument with Lieutenant Hawkeye.

"Then how am I supposed to take it?" Hawkeye demanded in return as she slammed the gun she was cleaning on the table. "With all due respect, sir, I wonder what gave you the idea that I was too weak to walk home on my own."

Mustang winced. "It's not because of your weakness that I'm here, Hawkeye, but…" he stopped himself and snapped his mouth shut. He was dangerously close to saying more than he would've liked. He let out a sigh. "I don't think you're weak," he said quietly.

Hawkeye shook her head as she stared at him. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, sir."

The Colonel stared at his feet; it was better than looking at her guns or, well, her. He'd been dreading conversations like this with the Lieutenant for awhile, and yet he seemed to continuously put himself in the position to have them. How long ago was it that he discovered how he felt about her? Well, he realized it at Ishball, but he had probably loved her long before then. It figured that he, the Flame Alchemist, would fall in love with the woman who would eventually become his sharpshooting and quick-tempered bodyguard. What could he say? He just loved fire, and she was it. The truth was that ever since the Rebellion, he'd been on edge about her safety. He simply couldn't stand the thought of anything happening to her, and he followed her tonight to make sure that she got home safely because, well, he supposed it was because he loved her. But he could never actually tell her that… could he? He knew how she felt about fulfilling her duty to her superiors. Any advances he made on her would be an absolutely unacceptable abuse of his power. So, he had to just make something up. Preferably something that won't upset her any more than he already had.

The Lieutenant had long since lost interest in pretending to clean out her guns and was now watching the Colonel's face intently. He hardly seemed to notice, though, and she wondered if he even remembered he was standing in the entry room of her apartment. His thoughts were painted across his face, and she watched as he passed through some of the more familiar emotions: anger, annoyance, anxiety, frustration… but then he passed into something that she hadn't found a name for. It was close to exhaustion, but with a soft edge to it. She shook her head and looked instead at the puddle of water that was forming around his feet. What on earth was he thinking, following her here in the rain?

"Freedom to speak freely, sir?" Hawkeye asked, finally breaking the silence.

Mustang looked up at her with grateful eyes and drops of rainwater rolling down from his hair to his eyelashes. "Please," he replied, sounding incredibly relieved.

A thought had crossed Hawkeye's mind awhile ago that at first sounded ridiculous, but was starting to feel less crazy the more she studied his expression. There was an uncomfortable silence as the Flame Alchemist felt as if his skin was on fire under the scrutiny of his Lieutenant's eyes. He started to feel himself shiver, this time from more than just the cold and wet shirt clinging to his chest.

"Before I continue," Hawkeye began cautiously, "I want you to remember that you were the one who followed me home, and you are the one standing soaking wet in my entryway, ruining my carpet."

"Gah!" Mustang looked down and noticed the large amount of water he'd brought in with him. He sighed and hung his head again, dejected. "I know, Lieutenant, I'm the one who's being a nuisance."

Well, that was a start. "And?" Hawkeye took a step forward, rooted her hands on her hips, and waited for Mustang to continue with the list of things he'd done wrong so far this evening. It's the only way he'll learn.

"And… following you home was out of line?" He looked up at her to see if his answer was acceptable.

Hawkeye nodded curtly. "Because?"

Shit, there's more. Mustang winced and thought hard to come up with an answer that would make her stop glaring at him. "Because… I should have trusted your ability to defend yourself." He looked up again, this time with a little more confidence, and saw Hawkeye nod again. He let out a small sigh of relief, his gaze returning to his sodden shoes.

"So, if I say or ask something… unprofessional… I want you to remember that you started it," the Lieutenant began defensively, her voice faltering in its usual strength.

The Colonel slowly raised his eyes to her face, this time holding them there until she looked away with a blush. Mustang's brow furrowed in thought.

"Sir, to start, I want you to be completely honest with me," she continued. "Why did you follow me here?"

"Hawkeye, I…" Mustang nervously ran a hand through his hair, causing a stream of water to run down his arm. "It's not because I think you're weak, or incompetent, or any of that bullshit."

She was probably overreacting to this, true, but he'd been acting so… strangely lately. For once, she wanted a straight answer. One minute he was sending her out on her own to be frontrunner in one of their more dangerous missions, then the next he was yelling at her for endangering herself by shopping for groceries alone. "Alright then, Colonel, what _do_ you think of me?" Hawkeye demanded, the annoyance and anger returning to her voice.

Maybe he should just say it. He'd done enough to mess up the night anyway, might as well make it as catastrophic as possible. Besides, he was feeling a bit too honest tonight anyway. He looked at the guns she had laid across her dinner table. Maybe she'd only shoot him after he said it. He could picture it now: _'Lieutenant, I'm in love with you.' Bang! Flash of red and Mustang lying tragically on the floor, being nuzzled by the woman's puppy. _Maybe if he didn't call her 'Lieutenant'…

Hawkeye cleared her throat and Mustang jumped slightly. "Honestly, sir, pull yourself together." Mustang looked up at her with lost eyes and she let out an aggravated sigh, reached out on the table, grabbed one of her guns, and pointed it at the wet man in her entryway, mumbling under her breath something along the lines of calling her superior a great useless idiot. Honestly, all she wanted was a simple answer. If he was going to be difficult with her, well, he was asking for it.

The Colonel jumped, watching his own daydream play out in front of him. "Fuck, Hawkeye—!"

"Colonel Mustang, why are you here?" the armed woman demanded, the slightest bit of amusement in her otherwise terse and annoyed voice.

"Insubordination, Lieutenant!" Mustang exclaimed incredulously.

Hawkeye smirked as she released the safety on her pistol, causing Mustang to take a hesitant step back. "Please, play with me," she warned in a dangerous tone, her smirk only widening. "Now, tell me why you're here."

'_Alright,'_ Mustang thought to himself, _'she wants to play? Well then, we'll play.'_ He looked past the gun to her face, almost certain that she was bluffing to get a reaction from him. "Because _I'm_ weak, Lieutenant," he finally replied.

"Interesting," she replied, obviously not impressed. "Now explain."

"I simply can't stand the thought of you being able to defend yourself without needing my overpowering manliness and good looks at your side," he elaborated, a smirk now growing on his face and only saying half of what he really wanted to say, and only meaning half of what he did say. Truth be told, he loved that she could defend herself. Sometimes he just… wanted to be sure she was ok, even though he knew she would be. Was that so arrogant or selfish?

"Hm," Hawkeye mused, looking off to the side and pondering his answer. "Not bad." But studying his face now she felt sure that there was more, and she was tired of not hearing it. No more waiting for the Colonel to grow a pair and tell her the truth; it was time to take matters into her own hands and force it out of him. She turned back to Mustang and cocked her gun. "Now tell me the _real_ reason why you're here."

Mustang had a moment of intense thought and inner debate. Was she playing with him, or was she serious? If she was serious he could get himself shot. He decided to continue to play with the heavily armed and highly irritated woman in front of him. "Fine, Hawkeye, I'm here not because of me, but because of you."

The Lieutenant took a step forward. "Oh really?"

"It's all your fault actually."

"And how do you figure that?" she responded, taking another step towards him.

Mustang wasn't sure if this should threaten or thrill him. He looked down at his feet, this time with a grin. "You're too good for me, Hawkeye. You're too good of a sharpshooter to be my bodyguard, you're too good of a soldier to be my subordinate, you're too good of a person to be in the military, and you're too good of a woman for me to have any business standing here, so if you'll excuse me—"

He turned for the door, but the second his hand touched the doorknob a shot rang out in the apartment. Mustang pulled his hand away from the smoldering knob and turned back to the woman with the gun. For all her yelling and irritation, she had every intention to make him stay.

She walked towards him, her still smoking gun pointed up at the ceiling and her free hand on her hip, her hair and clothes still visibly wet from their run in the rain. Suddenly, the entire mood had changed. She was both cool and hot at the same time, ice and fire, calm and agitated. She was beautiful. The fire in her eyes and the smirk on her lips were almost dangerous; a normal sane man would have kicked down the door and ran at the sight.

But this was Roy Mustang, and he was far from being normal or sane. Like the flames he felt spring from his fingers, he saw in her the thrill of danger without the fear of death. He saw raw power, something that could easily kill him, but that he knew never would. He trusted his Lieutenant more than his own alchemy, and he'd suddenly found a new way to play with fire.

The Colonel held the gaze of his Lieutenant and stood perfectly still as she approached and stopped about a foot in front of him. He then reached forward slowly until his hand rested over the gun. She remained still as his gloved hand wrapped around hers and his finger followed the line of her trigger finger to join it in the small space between flesh and cold metal, pressuring the trigger to move treacherously. His finger twitched and the safety clicked back on. In one movement he untangled the gun from her grasp and threw it across the room while his free arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her against him, getting a shock from feeling the cold and wet fabric of his clothes press against his skin. His second and more powerful shock, though, came when he looked down and saw the Lieutenant's face mere inches from his own, her breathing falling against his cheek.

Hawkeye let out a short laugh. "Don't think this display of manliness impresses me, Colonel," she said against his ear. Suddenly, the Colonel felt himself being forced backwards and heard the harsh bang as his back hit the wood of the door, Hawkeye's hands on either side of his head.

"Watch it, Lieutenant," he mumbled in return, every inch of his body that was touching hers feeling like it was on fire. "That's some pretty bold action for someone who just pulled a gun on her superior."

"It was for your own good, sir."

"Oh?"

"It is my personal duty to make sure you don't do anything that you'll later regret."

"And what regrettable thing was I about to do, Lieutenant?"

Hawkeye pulled away from Mustang enough to look him in the eye, the playfulness in her own giving way to something more serious. Mustang's grin faded and his mind began to catch up with what was actually happening.

"You were about to leave," she replied, her eyes locked onto the Colonel's.

For the first time in memorable history, Colonel Roy Mustang felt speechless. He was soaking wet in First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye's apartment; he was pinned up against the door by her. He'd be shot at, threatened, and insulted, and he'd never had more respect for or been more attracted to anyone else in his entire life. Staying on that thought, he lifted his free hand to brush down the back of her head until it rested on her neck and his other hand traveled up her back to her shoulder blades. He felt a hand intertwine with his hair and another on the back of his neck start to pull him down. Slowly, wanting more than anything to feel her lips against his, he closed his eyes and tilted his head…

_Bang, bang, bang!_

Three sudden explosions in Mustang's ear brought him crashing back down to earth.

"Shit! What was—"

A sudden hand over his mouth cut off his exclamation. He looked at the Lieutenant, who was rolling her eyes with signs of anger and impatience on her face. She reached for the area at Mustang's side and he looked down to see that her hand was on the doorknob. That's right, he was against a door. Ah. He moved aside as Hawkeye turned the knob and yanked open the door enough to put her head out.

"Oh, hello Mister Turin. Can I help you with something?" Hawkeye's voice carried from outside the door. Mustang laughed to himself, recognizing the annoyance that was thick in her tone.

"Hello Miss Hawkeye!" The cheerful male intruder was oblivious to her mood. Obviously he did not know her as well as Mustang. "I'm sorry to bother you, but it's just that I heard gunshots and I wanted to make sure…" The male voice went on from the other side of the door. Mustang yawned and looked around for something to occupy him until Hawkeye managed to ditch the guy. Eyes returning to the Lieutenant, he reached toward her with a grin.

"…I know you have a so many guns and I'm sure know how to handle them so I don't mean to—" Hawkeye jumped suddenly. "Is everything alright Ms. Hawkeye?"

Hawkeye smiled. "Yes, of course," she replied as she reached back to slap away the hand that was traveling up her spine. "Thank you for your concern, Mr. Turin, but like I said before, I was just cleaning my gun…" a gloved hand grabbed her own and she felt the warm and moist pressure of lips press against her fingers, "…and there was a dirt buildup that I was working out…" the lips began to move to the back of her hand and wrist, "…so I decided to fire a shot to make sure I'd cleaned it all out."

"Yes, well, I figured it was something like that…"

Hawkeye ground her teeth together as her obnoxious neighbor went on. Behind the door, the line of kisses was now at her elbow and heading north. A few moments later, there was a nip on her shoulder and she's had enough.

"Well! Mr. Turin, thank you for checking on me. But I as you can see, I'm fine."

"Yes, um, that's good to know!"

Another bite hastened Hawkeye further as she began shutting the door. "Thanks for checking on me! Take care! Goodbye!"

A final "Goodbye, Miss Hawke—" was muffled by the door as she shut and locked it, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. She turned to see Mustang smirking back at her.

"Nosy neighbor?"

She let out a short laugh. "You have no idea." She looked Mustang in the eye for an intense moment that seemed to last much longer than it actually did.

Then she slapped him. Mustang lifted his hand up to his face and cursed. He turned his head back to her and opened his mouth to bark out some kind of complaint, but before he could, Hawkeye lifted her arm other out toward him. He blinked at her, feeling like he was supposed to be doing something, but was unaware as to what that was. She smirked at him. "As you were, Colonel? You've completely neglected this arm."

"If you liked it, then what was the slap for?!" he protested, his hand still resting on his red cheek.

Hawkeye shrugged. "You know I don't like to be distracted while I'm talking to people. It's very rude." She lifted her arm slightly higher. "So…?"

Mustang grinned as he grabbed her hand and kissed it. "That'll have to wait," he pulled Hawkeye in, his face once again mere inches from hers and his hand traveling to the back of her head via her jaw line. "I see something else that needs attention." He watched her lips deepen into a smile. He leaned in and once again moved in for the kill—

_Bark! Bark! Bark!_

"Damnit, Black Hayate!" Hawkeye turned to yell at her dog. "He's not hurting me, he's—"

Mustang grabbed Hawkeye's hips with his free arm and pulled her in. The second her head turned back to him, he pressed lips against hers, his hand traveling up to work into her hair and hold the back of her head. Almost immediately, he felt her returning his kiss, her hands intertwining behind his neck and pulling him further towards her. Before he knew it, his tongue brushed hers and he felt engulfed by fire. Overwhelmed, he broke away.

"Hawkeye, I…" he trailed off, focusing instead on the fall of her breath on his neck.

"I think you can call me Riza," she smiled up at him, "sir."

He laughed and nodded. "It's Roy," he replied with a grin. "'Sir' is for the office," he murmured as he leaned in for more.

"The office." Riza repeated as she looked away in thought, away from Roy's descending kiss. "Shit."

"What about it?" Roy inquired as settled instead to nip on the tip of her ear.

Riza pushed away suddenly and started to walk back to her table absentmindedly, leaving a very confused Roy in her wake. "They'll find out," she said as she walked.

Roy watched her leave like a child watching his favorite balloon disappear into the sky. "Find out what? What's wrong?"

She turned back to face him. "Colo—Ro—shit! Do you realize what we just did? Do you have any idea of what would happen if someone found out about this?"

Roy straightened and tried to regain some of his more commanding, less needy, stature. "Riza, calm down, who's going to find out? And besides, we haven't even done anything all that juicy or punishable yet."

"'Yet'?" Riza crossed her arms and Roy let out a groan, knowing a foot in the mouth when he tasted one. The moment of dread passed quickly, though, as Riza moved on to other areas of criticism.

"Do you have any idea how many military officials live in this area? In this very complex? Half of them probably saw you at my door, and the other half is bound to see you leave. Do you have any idea how bad that will look?"

"If anyone asks, we'll tell them you wanted an escort home due to the chopper."

"No one would believe that I would want or need your protection," Riza snapped defensively.

"You work in an office filled with men who won't give a second thought to the fact that you'd want someone to walk you home."

"So, men just like you," Riza replied, her eyes shooting daggers into the man across from her as she remembered the reason for their earlier fight that started all of this. "How incompetent do you boys really think I am?"

Roy shook his head and moved closer to his Lieutenant. "Riza, we don't think you're incompetent."

"Then why are _you_ here?" Riza demanded.

"Do you honestly think that I would trust you with my own life everyday if I didn't even trust that you could take care of yourself?" Roy snapped back, his eyes now meeting both the determination and fire of Riza's. He finally felt the confidence to say what he'd been holding back. "But Goddammit, Riza, no one can always protect themselves! And if that weren't true, you wouldn't have a job! To walk around like you can always watch your own back is beyond being proud, it's just pure recklessness!"

Riza lowered her gaze and head slowly, realizing what he meant. A moment of tense silence passed between them.

Roy slowly began to relax as he watched the woman in front of him. He was glad she wasn't angry any more, but he surely didn't want her to be upset, either. He felt a sudden need to say something, anything, to try and comfort her. He took a step forward and cleared his throat. She looked up at him with a somewhat disinterested expression.

"Riza, look, I'm sorry if you feel like I followed you here because I didn't trust that you could take care of yourself, because that simply isn't true. But between the options of hurting your pride by following you or risking you ending up in a case file sliced into pieces," Roy winced, "well, I decided I was less worried about your pride."

Roy stepped forward, removed his gloves, and tossed them on the table next to her guns. He then reached forward and took both her hands in his own, making sure he had Riza's full attention before he continued because dammit, if he was going to have to say this, he was only going to say it once. "It's not your strength I doubt but mine. Riza, please don't endanger yourself needlessly just to prove a point because I… I know I wouldn't be able to handle it if anything happened to you. Your… service is irreplaceable, and I don't want anyone else by my side, watching my back, but you."

His eyes begged for her to read more into his meaning than he was ready to say. There it was: his confession. Her Colonel was in love… with her. Were it any other person, Riza would second guess this conclusion, but she knew Roy Mustang better than anyone else in the world. There wasn't a single glance, tone, or gesture of his that she didn't know and understand entirely, and though she'd never seen this exact expression in full view before, she recognized in his face and voice all the components that went into it: vulnerability, fear, trust, compassion, longing, desire, admiration. If you threw the raw materials of each of those into a transmutation circle, love would be the product.

A few hours ago they were both still in the office, her packing heat in her shoulder holster and him in his hands, pouring over the pictures of slaughtered women found in their own backyard. And now here they were, both still slightly wet from the rain, completely disarmed, and standing in her apartment. She was holding Roy's—no longer only a Colonel to her—bare hands in her own and reading affection out of his eyes. No matter what the rest of the night brought, she doubted if anything else would feel more intimate than this very moment as they revealed to one another their unarmed, unguarded selves and insecurities—her pride, his fear—all of which could burn brighter and more furiously than they could have ever at first imagined.

"Roy, I…" Riza's voice got lost as it met the air around them, as if smoldered by a loss of oxygen.

Roy lifted both her hands and kissed them, his eyes still locked onto hers. "Riza—"

"Stop." Roy blinked at Riza as a smile both sweet and mischievous spread across her face. "Don't tell me," she instructed. "Show me."

Like a match dropped on gasoline, Roy Mustang felt passion flare up his body as he grabbed the Lieutenant and held her against him, his lips seeking to spread their fire to any part of her that they touched.

Black Hayate heard a sudden crash and the sound of muffled voices coming from the kitchen and lifted his head lazily. The noises increased slightly and paused, followed by the sound of feet walking urgently down the hallway towards the bedroom, ending with the sound of a slamming door. He lowered his head back to his paws and let out a puff of air and a soft wine. Looks like he'd be missing out on his evening walk tonight. It's just as well, though; he hates walking in the rain.


End file.
